


The Reds

by tatch



Series: Shades of Red [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: Amnesia, Decelerated Aging, M/M, Metas are being hunted, No Justice League, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Question is an important vigilante, Slade is Roy's father, The Author Regrets Nothing, alternative universe, immortal character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:52:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4713374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatch/pseuds/tatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Reds take on a job. It doesn't really go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> The author would like to point out that english is still not the author's main language and that there may be errors and badly spelt stuff within this fic.
> 
> Had to do a first chapter to explain context and stuff *waves hand*  
> Other chapters will take longer to write but they're coming (Brace yourselves !)
> 
> Edit: The author had planned to write the whole story in one chapter, but changed their mind sooo it should be 2 or chapter long :)

Roy is 6 years old when he realizes there's something _wrong_ with the world. Or maybe it's him who doesn't fit? Who knows. It _shouldn't_ be right that THEY come in the middle of night to take his neighbors away, because the daughter can read the future in people's hands.

But it's the way the world spins.

 

* * *

 

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Well, I'm not in your head-"

"Aha. Funny."

"... but yeah, I think it is."

 

* * *

 

By the time he's 9, he knows better than to expect anything from anyone. To never let them know that he heals so _fast_ that cuts and bruises never last more than a couple of minutes on his skin. To hide the fact that he knows somehow that the man he's been calling his father until then isn't his father. That he knows, _knows_ that if he doesn't start hiding in plain sight, he's going to end up in a cage and he'll never see the sun ever again. And Roy kinda likes the sun, thank you very much. So he hides who he is, what he is (whatever _that_ is) and lies and smiles and becomes someone else.

 

* * *

 

"We better get a fucking bonus after all this shit."

"Well, he did mention that he had a jet-"

"Shut up, you two. We're not done yet."

 

* * *

 

His mom dies when he's 12 and a man shows up at her funeral. The man says he is Roy's father and that he's come to take care him. Roy asks for proof. It's not like he'd believe the first guy who'd come around and claim to be his real dad (but then again, maybe it's what any _other_ normal kid would do. Not that Roy would know. Since he's apparently a genius or something.) His maybe-dad takes them to the backyard and looks around for witnesses, but there's no-one there. So he cuts his wrist open, deep. And the wound heals in a minute or so, as if it was never there to start with. So Roy believes the man-his dad. They pack and leave the next day.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, maybe we can watch Godzilla when we get home. You know, stay in topic and all that."

"How about Terminator?"

"Memento."

"Punisher."

"R.E.D."

"Ocean Eleven."

"Ugh, I hate that movie."

"... Remind me why I keep working with you guys?"

 

* * *

 

 

By the time he's 13, Roy knows quite a lot of things about his father. His dad is a very very dangerous very very skilled man. His job involves explosives, firearms and coming back home at absolutely random hours of the day (usually the night though.) And his name is Slade. Slade Wilson. (it still sounds like a fake name, like that guy in comic books- _what's his name again_ -Wade Wilson.) With Slade, Roy doesn't have to pretend. Doesn't have to _hide._ (Well, he still has to hide when he's out in the world but home is _safe.)_ He graduates from college so _fast_ he barely remembers anything about it, except that it was dull and boring. He keeps on learning but does it from home (Online tutoring is a marvelous invention and Roy would kiss whoever invented it.) because then he has time. And Slade (Roy hasn't quite gotten around calling him dad yet.) has a lot to teach him. How to fight, how to shoot, how to break bones and give pain. How to charm, how to smile convincingly, how to steal. It's like there's no limit to what Slade can _teach_ and there _is_ no limit to how much Roy can learn.

 

* * *

 

"Mother of- Is that Batman?"

"Fuck. _They'_ re after him."

"We need to go. **NOW."**

 

* * *

 

He's 14 the first time they ring his door. (by then, they'd moved to a small house somewhere in Star city.) And Roy remembers it like it was yesterday. The screams and _pleas_ of his neighbors as they were dragged in chains. So he hides behind a smile and let them in. The name's CADMUS and they want _'to offer you a job, mister Harper'_. They've heard of _'his genius level intellect'_ and want him to _'be a part of something great, something good'_. They won't put him in a dark cell in a basement, never to be heard of ever again, because they _don't know_. So he plays the insecure unsure teenager and tell them that he's not sure and he should probably talk to his dad first. They understand and give him a card then leave. Of course, Slade freaks out a bit when he returns from whatever/wherever his job had been this time. But Roy explains. And Slade stops packing everything and grabs his traveling bag, adding a few things in it, because apparently Roy just passed some sort of test and Slade wants to _'show you something son, I'm sure you're gonna like the place. Pack a bag, we're going on a vacation'_. The League of Shadows would be a frightening place for anyone else but Roy can't help but gape in wonder. There are people with powers everywhere. Flying people, tk people, teleporting people, part animal people and so on. Slade asks for a favor and they train Roy. He's not quite ready to... be or do whatever it is that Slade expects him to be yet, so he trains. And learns. And _trains_ some more. Learns he's a natural with a bow and almost as good with most firearms. Learns how to land, how to jump, how to be as silent as the night. How to kill silently, how to make a man talk and spill his guts, how to freak someone so badly they'll shake in fear for _days._ They stay for 2 months and Roy learns so much he gets headaches when he tries to think about it. They return home and Roy misses it, the harsh training and crazy people all around. But it gives him time to learn his own brand of stuff. Engineering, weapon development, bio-chemistry and all kinds of things. He starts designing armors and weapons and gadgets for Slade and Slade tests them and asks questions, points out flaws and pushes Roy _further._ And maybe Roy is a masochist but he _likes_ it.

 

* * *

 

"You okay there?"

"Fuck you."

"Maybe later."

*Snort*

"Really."

"Aren't you with-"

"Yeaah... It's complicated."

"He's going to kill me if I touch you."

"Well, it would make things easier if you'd be fine with a threesome."

"... Wait _what?"_

 

* * *

 

Roy is 16 when he meets _him_ and he can't stop _staring._ They call him Mistletoe and the poor guy doesn't remember _anything._ No **really.** Nothing at all. Mistletoe has knowledge and he knows how to do things (he's good at almost everything and it makes Roy's mouth water with want. Or you know, it may be the curve of that ass and damn, those _shoulders_.) but he can't remember his name, ever having been anywhere but inside the League giant cave, doesn't know what he likes or dislikes (that time he'd spew beans everywhere had been hilarious), really has no personal memories at all. He can't be much older, or younger, than Roy, has mid-length black hair, eyes startlingly green (but sometimes they're blue as the sky and how _weird_ is that? Not so much actually but still.), pale skin and _scars_. Scars that speak of a lifetime of fighting and getting hurt and _hurting back_ that Mistletoe can't remember. And maybe it's some stupid teenage hormone thing but Roy wants. He wants to help, wants to fight with Mistletoe at his side, wants to look at those eyes and smile, wants to hold and caress and kiss. He _wants._ So he'll do everything to get.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you know why mistletoe. Don't try to deny it. (IF not, go check the North mythology section of the mistletoe wiki page [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mistletoe#Cultural_references))


	2. The sight of Care Bear boxers should be considered torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggs, hips, scars and beer. Oh and a goatee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long dears, but real life kept throwing shit at me and this fic is full of joy and banter (mostly) and I didn't want to infect it with my mood.  
> Things have finally sorta returned to a normal level so here it is :)
> 
> Also lots of love to XxRawr for the lovely comments <3

 

Roy's assignement was simple. Red had finally accepted to give him another chance at making breakfast.

It couldn't be that hard right?

 

He had until Red finished showering, his partner slash best friend slash lover slash boyfriend having said "It's more than enough time to cook a few eggs and toast some bread. I'm sure even you can do it" and yeah, the mocking tone was probably deserved. Roy had managed to burn about everything he'd tried to cook until then: noddles, rice, bread, carrots (don't ask); cooking just seemed to be some sort of magical thing that made no sense to the redhead. He could make nitrogliceryn in his basement with his eyes closed and a hand tied behind his back, but couldn't cook anything without burning half the kitchen.

  
The doorbell rang. He glared at the eggs in the pan, as if it was their fault somehow. No. No, he was not going to mess this up again and get banned from the kitchen for another six months. The doorbell chimed a few times again, insistently this time. Roy gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on the food that did not want to get cooked but wasn't burning either. Yet. He willed the transluscent matter bubbling in the pan to be finished already so he could go answer the door and hopefully, break someone's nose. Whoever was out there apparently decided that ringing that not annoying enough and started pounding on the door, shouting:

"Roy? Are you there? I need to talk to you!"

  
Roy's focus shattered. He knew that voice.

 

He moved, reactivated the holographic shielding of his prosthesis and opened the door, almost getting a fist in the face. And well, if it wasn't Oliver fucking Queen, looking surprised and a bit sheepish. They blinked at each other a few times. What the hell was the boss of his part-time day job doing here? Roy was pretty sure he would have remembered inviting that idiotic annoying moron over. Not that he would have invited Queen over, not when Red didn't have a job until a few days and that Dad was supposed to come back today (not that he would have actually invited Oliver home at all). He was pretty sure either one of them would try to shoot or kick his 'boss' out of their house before the blonde man could say a word. Oh yeah, he could picture it already.

Oliver coughed, clearing his throat and Roy blinked back to the present.

"So -uh- you said you wanted to talk?" the redhead asked.

"Yeah uhm it's- well it's a rather... private matter... so uhm... well do you mind if I-" Oliver gestured vaguely toward the inside of the house and more precisely to the couch that could be seen from the opened door.

Roy nodded automatically, his brain frozen. Oh boy. Oooohh he knew that expression. Oh yeah, that face.

 

That was the face Oliver Queen, billionaire, playboy, CEO of Queen Consolidate and -by night- the fucking Arrow vigilante for _chrissake,_ made when he wanted to ask Roy about something related to some vigilante crap and was trying (and absolutely _failing)_ to be all subtle about it. So okay, well, Queen didn't knew that Roy knew about the Arrow. Queen didn't knew much about Roy's life actually. That Roy was both Arsenal, professional mercenary, part of the two-man team 'the Reds' and secretly the Archer, outlaw vigilante, openly helping and rescuing metas (and sorta collaborating with Arrow, since they shared a city and all that). Not that anyone knew about Roy being the Archer (well except Red, but well, Red was Red) but still. Roy was cautious as fuck every time Oliver made that face. It never bode well.

   
Roy made an annoyed sound, rubbing distractedly around the joint where his prosthesis and his arm met. Stress habit.

  
"What is it Ollie?"

Roy's respect (deference?) for anyone who wasn't Slade or Red had probably been crushed somewhere around the time he'd learned that he would never ever need to be careful with his employers because there would ALWAYS be someone in need and willing to pay for his peculiar set of talents. But Oliver was making a funny face and Roy suddenly smelled something burning. Shit. The goddamn eggs. Roy ran to the kitchen. The transparent thingie was now black and hard as stone.

 _How._ Just **how.**

 

As if on cue, he heard the bathroom's door open and Red strolled in the kitchen, thankfully wearing a pair of jeans (that rode low on his hips and Roy did _not_ stare) and towelling his hair while laughing.

"Really? Even eggs?"

  
Roy groaned and let his face hit the kitchen counter with a resounding thud. Red laughed some more and opened the fridge, crouching in front of it, probably looking for beer. Good luck with that since they'd drunk the remaining ones while watching Wall-E (and Roy had not cried. Badass mercenaries did _not_ cry while watching Disney movies.) Then he realized.

  
"Jay, there's no beer."

  
That did the trick. Red knew that Roy only called him Jay when there were people around. (Because Red hated the nickname that reminded him of his amnesia every time.) Red's head turned to the living room and Oliver waved, part uncertain, part shy. (The tips of his ears were pink.) Red sighed and got up, towel around his neck.

  
"I'll go get some."

Which uh-

"You're sure?"

  
Red wasn't looking at Roy as he went to put some clothes on. Oh. Right. The scar thing.

 

Roy kept forgetting just how shy of his body Red was around strangers (Red had tried to explain once, something to do with people asking questions, not being able to answer and being frustrated because he didn't know) because his lover usually roamed around the house in nothing but a pair of boxers, sweatpants on chilly days. (Not that Roy was complaining about that. He was not complaining _at all.)_ Red emerged from the bedroom a minute later (on the couch, Ollie kept making faces and squirmed but Roy was ignoring him) white t- shirt, boots and one of Roy's red hoodie on. He grabbed his wallet, kissed Roy on the mouth (and the redhead hummed in contentment. He was perfectly allowed to do so, and fuck you) and headed for the back door, around which Red parked his car.

  
Roy rubbed his temples.

Today was gonna be one of those days. A shitty day. Shitty as shit. He could feel it. Somewhere, someone probably heard his silent plea (or took pity of him) because then, the front door opened and Slade came in, traveling bag in hand. Before his dad could say anything, Roy raised a hand and pointed it toward the back door:

  
"Later. Jay's gone for beer."

  
Slade all but ran to the door, throwing his bag to the side in his haste. Because as much as Roy couldn't cook for shit, Red's taste (or more like _lack of_ it) in beer was disastrous at best. He couldn't remember brands and usually ended up buying ones with stupid names or distinctively cheap looking tags. Half the time, they ended up throwing most of the beer away. Red drank all beers as if they tasted the same. Which was- yeesh. Roy came back to the couch and fell on it. What was even his life. Some days it felt like living inside a sitcom. With more sex. And a lot more blood and dead bodies. Roy groaned. It was, what, ten in the morning? and he already felt tired. And he was hungry.

   
A noise near him brought him back to reality (and he quashed the urge to grab one of the guns stashed between the cushions and shoot without looking) and yeah right, Queen was there. Stupid Oliver with his stupid _face_ and his stupid _beard._ None of this would have happened if Oliver hadn't come knocking at his door, right when Roy was trying (and not failing too badly by then) to cook something edible. Oliver looked a bit flustered but at least his vigilante-stuff-related face was gone.

  
"Is it always like... that?"

"Urgh. No. Thank fuck no."

"So."

  
Aaaand the vigilante face was back.

"So."

"Hum well... I have this... gala thing and the guy who's organizing it.. well he heard of what you could do and wanted to meet you."

"Uh." What. That _wasn't-"_ Hum, Ollie, you do realize that I'm not... the kind of guy you bring around when you want to shine and show off to your filthy rich friends **right?"**

"What- No it's _not-_ listen Roy. That guy owns a big company and he's been looking all over the place for talented engineers and chemists and scientists in general. You're like... the whole thing all in one and then some more. I think he's going to try and seduce you into working for him if I don't set something up before he can make a move."

All this didn't explain the vigilante-crap face. But Ollie was apparently on a roll.

  
"Now I know I haven't been the most... considerate of bosses." And yeah, Queen had been kind of a pushy bossy never-happy-with-anything ass at work. Good thing Roy was used to Slade and his demands or he would have snapped, kicked Oliver's ass and slammed the door a long time ago.

"But I like to think that our... partnership is solid and the kind that lasts. So. The other reason I came here today-"

And Roy felt the need to quip and throw jokes like he always did but the bad feeling in his gut kept his mouth shut (for once).

"-is that I wanted to offer another job to you. Better pay but crazy hours and ... hum well high risks I guess."

Suddenly Roy remembered a conversation, not a week ago that he had had (as Archer) with Queen (as Arrow _of course.)_ Arrow had been wondering, thinking, pondering on finding, and training a partner to help him in his crusade against crime. And Archer had stayed silent as always (because the Archer was silence and stealth and lethal efficiency where Arsenal was quips and banter and mayhem-ish deadliness. Gotta keep personas unrelated to one another.) but Roy had distantly wondered who exactly Queen had in mind.

_'I feel like there should be someone by my side. Cover my back, help me out.'_

God, Arrow had been whiny that night. Archer had spent the evening babysitting the bearded whining idiot around town. He'd actually tucked the older man in, like the giant baby Oliver sometime was. (Which ugh- some things that were seen couldn't be unseen and Roy would now be forever haunted by the sight of Ollie's CareBears boxers.)

  
Oh.

Ooh boy.

Ooooooh no.

No no _no._

Nope.

 **Not** happening.

  
Ollie was making puppy dog eyes. It looked absolutely ridiculous. Roy frowned as if he had no real idea as to what kind of job Oliver was offering him.

"Ollie... I told you I didn't want a full-time job or more responsibilities. I'm more than satisfied what I currently have. Why-"

The older man raised a hand effectively cutting off Roy's oncoming rant.

"You wouldn't be working more or get big responsibilities. I swear it'd take about roughly the same amount of hours you're already working. As for the responsibilities you would be under my direct command and work with a very small team. I think you'd like Felicity, she's a lot like you." He added with a smile.

Roy's frown deepened and all he wanted to do was snarl, tell Oliver Queen to put those ideas of his where the sun never shined, possibly shoot him a few times for being an annoyance in Roy's more than complicated enough life, throw him out of the house, slam the door, put a stupid movie on the TV and forget everything related to Queen for at least 24 hours.

Because Queen wanted him on his team, as his **SIDEKICK.** Which would mean no more Archer and a lot more stress and hiding on his part. No more helping metas on his own way. No more flying at night alone and free. No more rolling on rooftops with Red as one or both of them got hot and bothered enough that they dropped everything and tracked the other down. Roy's nose wrinkled in a mix of anger and annoyance but the rest of his thoughts remained unfathomable. Oliver must have sensed some his unhappiness because he was opening his mouth to add something. It was Roy's turn to interrupt. He shook his head and rearranged his expression into a practiced mix of tiredness and resignation before looking not quite at Ollie's face but to some invisible point over the older man's shoulder.

"I'll think about it okay? I'm not really... interested but I'll give it some thought." Oliver opened his mouth again."AND I'll see if I can free myself for that gala party thing."

The hope and relief that flashed on Oliver's face reminded Roy of a puppy or a children starved of attention and approval.

  
Roy sighed and got up.

"Now, not to throw you out or anything but my dad just came back from a long trip and I think he'll want some peace and quiet."

"Of course ! I shouldn't have come by unexpectedly." Ollie got up and started moving toward the door. " But I really needed to talk to you and you're kinda hard to get in touch with on your off time.."

"Yeah sorry 'bout that."

Oliver crossed the threshold then turned back to face Roy once more.

"Oh right, I almost forgot."

"Yeah?"

"The gala is in Gotham. And that man I'd like you to meet?"

Roy nodded.

"His name is Bruce Wayne."

 


End file.
